


The Greatest Need

by thesometimeswarrior



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Canon, The Blitz, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 00:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5313212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesometimeswarrior/pseuds/thesometimeswarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The Germans are going to raze the entire city to the ground! A giant city, a thousand times the size of Camelot, full of your people!  These bombs—you’d never believe what they can do, explosions bigger than anything you ever saw any sorcerer make...He said you’d come back when Albion’s need was greatest! Well, I don’t see how it could get greater than this!”</p><p>During the most trying time for Albion, he hopes and he pleads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greatest Need

He sprinted, ignoring the rain drenching him to the bone—it was the least of his concerns, these days. There was probably some spell or other he could cast to dry himself, but he had long since given up using Magic. An unknowing person might have said that this was because he was ashamed of it, of what it had done, even that he had internalized the old king’s prejudice, but he knew none of this was true. There simply wasn’t room in this world for it. Bombs? Yes. Mustard Gas? Sure. Trenches, and tanks, and guns, and war? Of course. But not Magic. 

For centuries he had longed to use the Old Religion, it had twitched in his fingers, coursed through his blood with every heartbeat. And occasionally he would, just to move a stick or pebble a centimeter or so, just for release. But as the years passed the urge came less and less frequently, until finally, one day, long after he had lost Gwen and Gaius and everyone else he had cared about, it stopped coming at all. He knew it couldn’t bring him what he wanted.

But maybe this could. Not that he wanted _this_ —Gods, of course he didn’t. But maybe, just maybe, it could be the catalyst for what saved him. Them. All of them. The Gods knew there was enough energy in all those explosions.

Having reached his destination, he stopped. Nothing. Save for the quick ripples the raindrops created, the lake was as still as it always was.

“There’re bombs!” he shouted. “They’re dropping bombs all over London! That’s where the new King lives with his family—your descendants!”

Silence.

“The Germans are going to raze the entire city to the ground! A giant city, a thousand times the size of Camelot, full of your people! These bombs—you’d never believe what they can do, explosions bigger than anything you ever saw any sorcerer make.”

Silence.

“They’re evacuating children! Children but not their parents! They’re splitting families apart! They’re going to ask me to take some in soon. Me! That’s how desperate they are.”

Silence.

“He said you’d come back when Albion’s need was greatest! Well, I don’t see how it could get greater than this!”

Silence.

“Arthur, we need you!”

Silence.

“DAMNIT ARTHUR, _I_ NEED YOU!”

Again, silence.

He turned his back on the Lake, as he had so many times before. Water ran down his face, only some of it from the rain. It wasn’t the first time he thought that perhaps the Dragon had lied about the Once and Future King.

Slowly, he paced away, toward his house, where he knew he’d sit and wish and hope and mourn and long. There was nothing else an old man could do.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've had for a while. I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
